


Need a Hand?

by cakeisnotpie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Short Drabble, prompt, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for dazzling-sarah who asked for "Could you write number 10 with Bucky x Reader and Steve walks in, maybe he wants to join? I know Bucky/Reader isn't really a ship but it'd be great if you actually do it :)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need a Hand?

"This is not …" Your thoughts scatter as the cool metal of his hand wraps around your wrists, pinning them above your head.

"I’m supposed to be …" Warm tongue licks along the muscle of your neck, up from the vee of your collarbone to the point where your jaw curves by your ear.  
"I’m going to be late, damn it." A puff of breath tickles and the wicked tip of that tongue traces the sworls and dips inside your ear as he laughs. 

"Third time this week." Palm cups your breast, slipping between the buttons and onto flushed skin, calloused finger brushing across the lace until your nipple is hard and aching. 

"I’m your liaison, Bucky." Oh God, he’s switching the hand pinning you, using his strength now to lift you up by the swell of your ass; you wrap your legs around him and his very hard erection shifts right along the seam of your jeans, pressing it into the folds where you ache and want. 

"I am so getting fired for this," you gasp as his mouth closes over your breast, wetting the fabric of your white button-down and the sensible white lace bra as he sucks, lightly at first then harder, rubbing his cock against you at the same time, making lightning shoot up your spine and into your brain. 

"Oh, hell, I don’t care." You drop your head back on the wall and enjoy the weightless feeling of being pinned by his body, riding the waves of pleasure that are building. 

"Am I interrupting?" Steve Rogers says from the doorway.

You jerk your eyes opened that you didn’t even realize you’d closed and wiggle uselessly against Bucky’s strength, an embarrassed thought about slipping down and slinking away. 

"Not at all, Steve-o," Bucky drawled, not even removing his mouth from your breast, just murmuring around it, a thousand little pricks of heat with his words. 

Cheeks flushed red, you meet Steve’s bluest of blue eyes, imagining the censure and judgement you’ll find there but instead find amusement and fondness like all the meetings and debriefings and Stark-wrangling post mission sessions. He smiles, Bucky switches to the other breast and you bite back a little moan.

"Need a hand?" Steve asks.

Blinking, confused, you watch as Steve cocks his head and grins, and then it sinks in when Steve’s hands are braced on the wall by your head, he’s pressed up along Bucky’s back, leaning in, face just a few inches from yours, waiting for an answer.

You try to breathe, but the little groan Bucky’s mouth gives around your nipple as Steve presses him forward steals all the air from your lungs and all you can do is exhale.

"Hell yes."

And then Steve is kissing you and you are gone, so far gone that there’s no coming back.


End file.
